


God damn it, Jerry.

by sammys_lover



Series: October writing challenge '19 [21]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: APPLE CIDER, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Writing Challenge, Jerry's a dumbass, Spooky, The ring movies, This is DUMB, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-28 01:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21128387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammys_lover/pseuds/sammys_lover
Summary: I might have been spooked by a certain movie and written this





	God damn it, Jerry.

“Oooookay,” Rick drawls, walking into the living room with two mugs full of hot apple cider -- at least, mine is. His is spiked beyond all recognition, I'm sure. “One for you,” He hands me the red mug, taking a seat beside me and draping an arm over my shoulders as he propped his feet up. “And one for me.” 

“Um?” Morty pipes up questioningly, an accusatory look on his face. I almost forgot he was here, to be honest. 

“What? Are your legs broken? You know where to get your own.” 

Morty heaves a sigh, getting up off the couch to walk to the kitchen and get his own drink. 

I smack Rick's chest lightly as I curl up next to him, the t.v flicking on in front of us. 

“Don’t be mean,” I say quietly as I watch him smirk, his eyes flicking to mine. 

“What? His l- his legs aren't broken.” He defends, cut off by a light peck from me. 

“Mmm. I’ll get the drinks next time, then.” 

Our idle chatter is silenced when Morty returns, sitting next to me and picking up the remote. It’s his turn to pick the horror movie. 

Though, the trouble with scary movies is that Rick and I do nothing but heckle the characters. They’re morons, and it’s hilarious to point out their dimwitted ways. That, and I usually catch up to the plotline and figure out who the killer is, or what the ghost wants, about halfway through the movie. 

But hey, at least we’re spending time together, right? 

Anyway, Morty picks an oldie, but allegedly a goodie. It’s “The Ring” from like, 2002 or something. I’ve never seen it, so it can’t possibly be that scary. 

I settle and get comfortable against Rick, my hands wrapped around the warm mug, the smell of the cider filling the room as the movie begins. 

It can’t be that scary! 

…. 

*Two and a half hours later...* 

…. 

I’m clinging to Rick, who was completely unbothered, as the credits roll. 

I’d gotten a good 30 minutes of heckling in before I fell quiet, unable to speak after witnessing what I had. 

That...was terrifying. 

I’m about to ask Rick how he was no unnerved by the whole thing when I hear it. 

Directly behind my head, I hear the horrible, throaty noise of the creature from that fucking movie. 

I scream louder than I've ever screamed before, twisting in a hurry and raising my now empty mug to strike the thing. 

I get one good blow in, still screaming, when I hear Jerry’s groan of pain as the figure tumbles backwards. 

“Jerry?!” 

“Dad??” 

Jerry’s on the floor, rolling in pain and holding where I'd struck his head. He’s also crying out in pain. 

Morty must have run across the room to flick the lights on, and when they shine again, they reveal Jerry on the floor, who is also crying. 

“What the fuck-?” I’m breathless as I as the question, slumping in relief when I realize we’re not about to be horribly slaughtered. 

“Are you...crying?” Morty asks, leaning on his knees as he looks down at his father, who sniffles before weapily replying “no...” 

He sits up, and I see the extent of the damage, and I instantly feel a little guilty. He’s bleeding, but it doesn't seem like he’s hurt too much. 

I stand up and shakily set my mug down, rushing to go and help him when Rick stops me. 

“That’s wh-that-” He shakes his head. “That’s what he gets for being a d-*uuuurp*-dick.” 

When his hand lays on mine to keep me from walking away, he must notice that I'm shaking, despite the brave face. 

He turns on the couch to glare at Jerry, who was now standing and glaring at me accusingly. 

“You-you’re a piece of shit, Jerry.” 

Jerry opens his mouth to fire back, but when he pulls his hand back from his head, he looks a bit woozy. He shudders, a dejected noise the only thing leaving him as his eyes flick back to me. 

“I’ll deal with you later.” 

And with that, he walks from the room to the kitchen. I can hear him rejecting help from Beth, despite her being a doctor. He argues that he doesn’t have “horse skin,” and therefore she cannot help him. Oh, boy. This again. I tune them out, focusing instead on Rick, who had turned off the TV and stood, wrapping an arm around my waist. 

“Welp, I th-think you shou*urp*ld sleep with me tonight...just in case you’re afraid of your own sha-shado-you know, your shadow.” 

His wiggles his brow at me, and I scoff, laughing a little, nerves finally easing as he begins guiding me towards his room. 

He must think he’s slick, but Morty notices, groaning in disgust before moving to walk up the stairs to his own bedroom. 

“Okay, but get too handsy and you’ll wish that jerky ghost lady had come for you.” 

He laughs as he opens the door to his room, planting a sloppy kiss to my temple, squeezing me closer. 

“There’s my tough Y/n.” 

I laugh lightly with a huff as he collapses onto bed, with me in tow. 

And while I had a little trouble falling asleep, the beat of his heart and steadiness of his slight snore was familiar enough to finally lull me to sleep. 

I dream of nothing. 

Thank goodness.


End file.
